Armor
by emmals16
Summary: "She always listened and would only speak of personal experience if it offered comfort. As if helping someone was how she helped herself. Always kind. Always selfless."


**My middle name should just be angst, quite frankly.**

 **This is my first and probably only Skyrim fanfic, and it's mainly due to the fact I was just playing it (*uncomfortable laughter*). Just a drabble to put my mind at ease.**

 **Anywho, this is purely platonic because that is what I do best (but if you see romance, you do you bruh), and I have taken the liberty to give the Dragonborn no actual name out of the want to not make this a personal story of mine-(even though this is really just self gratifying tbh). The Dragonborn is female however, and thus will be referred to as "her" "she" "Dragonborn" and whatever else I end up writing to mix it up.**

 **So, imagine this scenario in a more realistic Skyrim world where getting shot with forteen arrows in the head does in fact kill you, and getting shot with a single one in the hand doesn't (I mean, c'mon). And, it's sort of "the beginning of the journey", I suppose.**

 **A level 30 or above shouldn't really have this issue.**

 **If anyone reads this, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

I hadn't even know what was happening until it was too late.

Who would've guessed this little blocked off section of the castle was filled with bloodthirsty gargoyles and skeletons? Me, actually. It was pretty obvious it was dangerous, but that's besides the point.

I thought everything was going well. We were peachy as fruit pie, sneaking through this place like we always snuck through unknown areas, and the only thing that made it more unnerving was that this was actually my home.

Skeletons fell like broken pillars, my ice spikes and her arrows whistling through the air like they were one with it, and then hammering into the enemy as though they were hammers themselves.

This was all for the sake of me, and my family. Sure, humanity and all of Tamriel counted, too, but the way she came along with me made me feel like it wasn't all about that. Her questions sang songs of a companionship that I had never known, and she told stories of her own life like she had complete faith in me— a stranger in my own right.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, quite literally, I felt like loneliness was a foreign concept. I was happy.

And then it happened.

Walking through a new corridor, one filled with towering bookshelves filled with books no one could ever hope to decipher, and a table filled with abandoned plates and surrounded by statues that glared daggers: that's when we were ambushed.

It was quiet. Candles flickered in the dim light, something that struck me as odd right off the bat, but in my ignorance I paid it no heed.

"It shouldn't be far now." I said, eyeing the darkest of corners, "If my mother's hidden here, there shouldn't be many more places that she could be at."

My companion said nothing in response, moving further into the room with me a few feet behind her. She didn't say much, now that I thought about it. Always so quiet.

The room seemed to explode at the thought.

I jumped, my feet shuffling back several paces as I tried to figure out what happened. Gargoyles. We had run into them before. Quite a few, actually, but not this many. Definitely not this many.

Dozens. Surrounding us. Surrounding me mostly, in fact.

My friend tensed, preparing an arrow immediately as the crumbling stone our enemies hid behind fell around her.

I didn't even think before firing my magic at them., and she seemed to move into action right along side me, shooting arrows and reaching for her dagger when they started getting too close for comfort. It worked for the most part— our little tag-team play, but it didn't last.

Too many, even for us. We weren't prepared for this. Hadn't been.

I feel pale— paler than usual.

 _Did my mother set this up_?

I fired my ice spikes one last time before stone slammed right into my side. My armor was weak, almost dainty, in fact. I had neglected to find more fitting armor in a town or city during our short travels. My companion had offered, and I denied. Foolish.

I hit the floor hard, hearing the deafening roars of the gargoyles' surrounding me and echoing off of every wall. Something kicked the table, and it went into a barrel roll directly over my head. I didn't even have time to duck as plates and candlesticks showered over me.

I got back to my feet, trying to focus once again on how the enemies had changed.

This time, I know I was paler than normal.

The gargoyles seemed to zero in on me as I stood, and they charged, leaping after me.

I drew my knife, knowing full well it wouldn't do much to these fiends while so many were attacking at once. It didn't seem to matter. At least, not at that moment.

An arrow made its way through one of their heads, and it fell to the ground lifelessly. As it fell, the Dragonborn was revealed, armor scratched and battered but she stood tall against it all. This was her life, after all: battling monstrous beasts.

A gargoyle hit her right as one slashed at me. She crashed, I rolled out of the way.

The doorway was right behind me— a staircase leading downward. I felt the sensation that as though I was going to fall as I shuffled back.

Another gargoyle fell beside the Dragonborn, and I slashed at the multiple around me stubbornly, preparing more ice spikes in my left hand.

They stumbled, roaring in pain, but attacked once again. I felt the air get pushed from my lungs at the impact of so many stone claws landing on me at once, and I fell promptly to the ground in a hissing heap of limbs.

The gargoyles loomed over me, and I reluctantly pushed myself to my feet. Perhaps, a few centuries asleep has weakened me? Perhaps I should've waited?

The stone claw wavered threatening overhead.

Perhaps I—

Two armored hands shoved me viciously away, and I found myself rolling down the stairs beyond the doorway in the next moment. Images of _her_ , the gargoyles, the steps, and the neighboring hallway all melded together before I found myself at the bottom step. Nauseous from the rolling, I turned back to the fight to find the doors swinging closed.

I charged into action.

I could see the Dragonborn twisting and turning skillfully with a dagger in one hand and a sword in the other, slashing at the gargoyles as they did the same to her. And then the door closed.

And I couldn't get in soon enough.

* * *

 _Locked. Always locked, damnit._

I shook the handle violently for the upteenth time, trying to pry it open with my dagger.

Eventually, the realization that only magic might have the ability to break it down came to mind. I used everything I had, and the door slowly broke into splinters and broken boards that piled onto one another sloppily. I found myself standing on them, glaring into the room like a wild animal prepared for the kill.

There was nothing left to kill, though. Broken stone bodies and blood.

I could smell it. The stench that seemed to overwhelm my entire body. I was entranced, but at the same time frozen with fear. So far, the only thing walking around with blood in their veins was—

The dark form of damaged armor and broken blades laid in the center of the room upon a pile of wooden boards that once resembled a table. I was running towards her before I even knew what was happening.

Was she dead?

No, impossible.

I slid to my knees, hovering there for a nauseating second before actually investigating. The leather armor was busted to bits, pieces hanging here and there and the buckles bent in obscure ways. Definitely in need of replacements. Her blades were no better, really. Shattered and bent. Broken beyond repair.

My hands hovered over her hair, it covering the majority of her face in a matted mess.

Truly, a mess. Everything.

I spoke her name slowly, finally gathering the nerve to poke and prod. I slid a few locks of hair out of the way and pushed her the the point that I could actually see her face.

Two bleary slits stared back at me, and then I was forced away by the clicking of a nearby skeleton. Close. Very close.

 _Damn!_

We're in no position for this now. Not even for a simple skeleton.

"I'm sorry if this hurts." I whisper as kindly as I can manage before lugging her broken form over my shoulders.

All I hear is a soft grunt when I very nearly drop her, but she's quiet despite that. Always so quiet.

I find myself retreating after that, the skeleton clicks being left behind as I find myself searching for sanctuary.

* * *

My mother had obviously had some place down here. The moon dial in the garden and the secret entrance it had within it was not there purely out of coincidence. She had a haven somewhere down here, and I had to find it.

Running, though not something I ever felt ashamed for, was not the favorable option in this situation. I was angry. Angry enough to feel the faint trails of revenge swimming in my being.

But, as more gargoyles shot from stone, and more skeletons found their way clicking and firing arrows at us, I found running to be the only way to get my companion to safety.

Only when the quietness of these abandoned tunnels became known did I actually set forth to find a room. Easier said than done. Every one that seemed to be completely void of any threatening creature was locked— so in actuality I didn't know whether they were void or not.

Without any other option, I foraged through one of the pouches tied to my companion's armor for some way to get the door open without breaking it down.

Inside, I found broken shards and sticky pink fluid. A health potion, I realized. Multiple: broken. Useless.

I frowned, finally finding what I had been looking for. A small lockpick. I had no idea what I was doing, to be completely honest, but it was worth a try.

Setting her on the ground, I shoved the pick into the lock and attempted to open it as peacefully as possible.

Ten broken lockpicks later the door swung open. Inside, just from a first glance, was filled with nothing. Some tousled stone thrown from the walls and ceiling, and a few cobwebs were the only things to be found.

It sounded perfect.

I dragged her in, locked the door behind us, and settled.

The only sound was a soft whistle from the wind moving through each room.

And she spoke, breaking the deafening silence, "You . . . should go on without me, Serana."

I didn't object, but I also didn't stand to leave.

Her two bleary eyes found mine once again, her face twisted with pain, "For Dawnguard and Skyrim." after a moment of hesitation, "And your mother."

"Don't." I found myself saying, feeling myself finally come to an understanding. A personal one, especially as I continued to look at her. Look _into_ her. Deeper than the simple dark irises that seemed to shimmer in the darkness.

There was a reason that this woman had attracted and intrigued me so much upon our first journey together. She was different. Much different.

I sigh, climbing to my knees beside her broken form, "Just give me a moment. I'll heal you."

Long before, my parents were loving. Perhaps, somewhere buried in my mind, I still held a kind word or two from my father close to my still heart. The soft touches against my cheek from my mother's cold hand. I still remember those small moments, simply because, no matter what, they were my family.

Even if now they were both closer to strangers and enemies.

This woman that found me, despite being sworn to kill my kind, never said an unkind word, and never looked at me in a way that suggested me being influenced for her to gain something for herself. She always listened and would only speak of personal experience if it offered comfort. As if helping someone was how she helped herself. Always kind. Always selfless.

A hero, if that wasn't too corny.

"I'm going to need new armor." she almost laughs, a quirk to the edge of her lip that's obvious even in the gloom, void of any eld back judgment or blame, and I can't help but smile with her as my hands ignite in warm, yellow light, "We both will, actually."

I set my hands softly against her abdomen, letting the healing hands sooth and mend. Binding what was broken back together again.

I see a future with me not hiding in the background using my magic, but instead standing beside her in battle. A long future in which she'll gladly let me adventure and explore beside her. A sense of belonging sprouts from the hints of it that had long since died.

"Yes." I agree, simply.

* * *

 **If you liked feel free to favorite, or simply review if that's your thing (it sure is mine).**

 **It's 3 am, so if anyone finds any spelling errors I missed, please let me know and I'll fix them right up.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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